Kismet
by jibbsloversunited
Summary: When it comes to destiny there is really no place to hide. Jibbs
1. Chapter 1

_A/N:- OK you might know that inspired by Threads and Spindles by Verity some Jibbs writers are exploring AUs where Jen and Gibbs don't become partners and where things don't happen in the way we know about. This is one of those stories - the only connection it has to Threads or indeed to Lover's Leap is that it is based on the same premise._

Disclaimer - I know I said I was never going to do this again - turns out I didn't actually mean never. I still don't own the characters - but I am guessing you knew that.

Thanks to Ellie and Verity for letting me join in the fun.

According to Webster's Kismet means _Destiny; fate. _It derives from the Arabic word _qismah_, and entered the English language via the Turkish word _kısmet_, meaning either "the will of Allah" or "portion, lot or fate". In English, the word is synonymous with _fate_ or _destiny_. You get the point.

**Kismet** - by morgan72uk

Ziva David sighed and leant a little further over the hotel rooftop. The air was cooler up here and beneath her the city of Cairo teemed and throbbed with life. At this time of night she knew the old streets were filled with people seeking every type of pleasure and places to hide while conducting their transactions. She watched their movements without seeing them, without wondering what was being brought and sold in the winding passageways – she had far more important matters to worry about.

In her hand she held a small piece of white cloth; a scrap that might easily have been overlooked – which was the intention. It had been placed quite carefully, weighted down by a single pebble. The pebble in question had not come from the Nile, but instead had been collected in Serbia; on the banks of a very different river. At the time she had questioned the logic of such a whimsical gesture. She had been wrong about that. The cloth combined with the pebble was much more than an apology for missing prearranged rendezvous. It was a message; a warning and a reminder of a promise she had made before this mission even began.

She sighed again. Her father would not be happy, but she had given her word. Something was amiss and she had said that if it came to it she would not let Mossad take control. Like it or not she was going to have to contact NCIS and apprise them of the situation.

* * *

Leroy Jethro Gibbs took a long sip of his coffee and resisted the urge to slap DiNozzo on the back of the head - again. While he didn't doubt the young agent's ability he was beginning to understand the enormity of the task he had undertaken and why DiNozzo had never managed to stay anywhere for longer than two years.

Gibbs couldn't help thinking that if he'd been half this much trouble in the early days it was no wonder that Mike Franks had retreated to a beach in Mexico. In fact he was seriously thinking about going to join him.

It didn't help that the remainder of his team was less than inspiring. He'd inherited Agent Johnson – who, though experienced, had an inflated opinion of his own ability. Gibbs had realised early on that his lack of imagination and stringent adherence to the rules made him more of a liability than an asset.For all of his arrogance it would be a far more rewarding task to whip DiNozzo into shape. The younger man had more talent in his little finger than Johnson, although it was unfortunate that DiNozzo was perfectly aware of the disparity in their abilities and spent his time doing his best to needle Johnson – something he was rarely unsuccessful at.

Despite his own reputation for being difficult, Gibbs knew there was a long list of applicants for the other vacant slot on his team. The Director was pressurising him to fill it – but he was resisting. He knew he needed experience and ability, someone who could stand up to DiNozzo and to him if need be. He was looking for a set of skills that complimented his own and, without knowing exactly what it was he was looking for, he knew he hadn't seen it yet.

"Agent Gibbs." He looked up at the sound of Director Morrow's voice, "a moment of your time." The Director's gaze slid past him to rest on DiNozzo and then on Johnson, "and bring your team with you."

As he rose it occurred to Gibbs that either he, or more likely DiNozzo, had done something to elicit the Director's ire – but that concern was dispelled as they followed Morrow into MTAC rather than his office.

"You're looking at Said Gravois," the Director said, nodding towards the large screen in the centre of the room where photographs of the same man were being displayed. "A French citizen – with an Algerian mother. He's recently emerged as a lead financier for several of the groups we've been watching closely since 9/11, he's been very successful in moving money for them. He was based in the French Rivera, but last year France has got a little too hot for him and he moved his base of operations to Cairo."

"He's not in the US?" Gibbs asked, wondering what this had to do with them.

"No," Morrow nodded towards one of the technicians and the photos changed. "Jasmine Sterling, US born financier, wanted here for questioning over several 'creative' deals – she's one of the few people Gravois trusts and she's also his lover."

"The beautiful ones are always evil." DiNozzo murmured and while Gibbs might have wished he'd kept the thought to himself he couldn't dispute the analysis. The woman was beautiful – if he'd been told she was a model or a film star he wouldn't have been surprised. Dark hair swept her shoulders and in the few shots when her eyes weren't hidden behind oversized sunglasses he saw the intelligence in her expression.

"I'm sure she'll be pleased to hear you say that Agent DiNozzo," Morrow sounded almost amused, as he looked towards the photographs again, "meet NCIS Agent Jennifer Shepard – Agent Shepard has been undercover as Jasmine Sterling for a year, she planned this operation."

"Why don't we get gigs like this?" DiNozzo breathed – all too evidently impressed by the full on undercover operation he was being read into.

"A better question would be why is NCIS involved in an op like this at all?" Gibbs wasn't happy – he'd undertaken his share of undercover missions when he'd been based in Europe but this was different; this was long term, deep cover and a high profile target.

"We've been liasing with Mossad – Agent's Shepard's handler is a Mossad officer." Morrow's explanation did nothing to make Gibbs feel happier.

"So what's gone wrong?" He asked, certain that something must have gone wrong.

"She missed her last check in and left her handler a message asking for help." Before he could continue the technician said,

"Officer David is on line sir."

"Put her on," Gibbs looked up as the face of a young woman filled the screen. Her dark eyes were wary and she looked every inch the good Mossad officer. He found it difficult to imagine her working easily with glamorous woman he'd seen photographs of just a few minutes before – but perhaps he was doing both of them an injustice. "Officer David, this is Special Agent Gibbs and his team."

Her eyes flicked over them and it wasn't hard to recognise the disdain with which she viewed them. "This is your best team?" she said sceptically, "an old man, a playboy and the office bore?" Behind him Gibbs heard Johnson's outraged squeak and DiNozzo's whisper of,

"The name's DiNozzo, Tony DiNozzo," in what he assumed was an attempt at a British accent.

"We're not the ones who've lost our prized undercover agent," Gibbs watched her bristle at his response but didn't give her time to respond. "How do you know Agent Shepard isn't dead?" He did not miss the way she flinched – it was an interesting reaction which he filed away for later consideration.

"She missed a pre-arranged check in – but she left me a message asking for help. Only Jen could have left the message – it was a personal signal, agreed between the two of us." Gibbs raised an eyebrow – not wanting to point out that if someone was tortured there were no secrets, since the Mossad officer surely knew that as well as anyone. "She'd been seen at her hotel the day of the check in – but hasn't been back since. Our intel suggests she is with Gravois at his house to the west of Cairo. It is heavily guarded and I am reluctant to get too close and risk being seen – unless you think differently?" She glanced towards Morrow who shook his head.

"Not yet. Jethro – I'm sending you out to assess the situation – and to see if you can work out if the mission has been compromised. It's a joint operation with Mossad – I expect you to co-operate. Officer David, can I count on you to assist Agent Gibbs?"

For a moment Gibbs thought she would refuse – there were currents here that he didn't understand and the young woman on the screen was clearly key to them. But, after a very short moment she nodded once.

"Can you seal the hotel room until we get there?" Gibbs asked, "we might be able to find some evidence that will help us."

"It will be done." The connection was terminated abruptly and from the surprised expression on the tech's face it hadn't been at his end.

"DiNozzo, go home and get a bag." Gibbs instructed. "Johnson – you'll handle the investigation from here." DiNozzo's whoop of glee did nothing to ease the sour expression on Johnson's face at the news that he was staying behind.

"Jethro," Morrow called him back as he started to follow his agents out. "Jen Shepard is a damn good agent – she's smart and resourceful. I know you don't approve of our expanding anti-terror work, but it's where the world is now."

"What are you telling me Sir?" Morrow smiled and shook his head.

"If you think she's in trouble get her out. No matter what she says." Gibbs nodded and turned to go, "and Jethro – if she asks, we never had this conversation. She's got a hell of a temper."

"Should I wonder how you know that, sir?"

"Get your mind out of the gutter Agent Gibbs - I recruited her." Gibbs raised an eyebrow and didn't comment further. But as he left MTAC he couldn't help thinking that recruiting the woman didn't exactly preclude other types of relationships. His gut told him that this was going to get complicated.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

A/N - hello, thanks for the reviews.

**Kismet – part 2**

It was a long flight to the NCIS field office in Bahrain, long enough to make Gibbs seriously consider giving Tony something to knock him out for the duration. The boy was irrepressible – excited at the thought of an overseas mission and only vaguely concerned that a fellow agent's life could hang in the balance.

When he wasn't thinking about head-slapping the junior agent Gibbs flicked through the files Morrow had given him, trying to get a sense of who Jennifer Shepard was. It didn't help; he was irritated by reading about the counter intelligence thrust of her work. It didn't look as though she'd investigated a single crime; he doubted if she could even find her way around a crime scene - too busy pursuing phantoms with her friends in Mossad.

It wasn't a surprise that they'd never met, given their different areas of expertise. But when he glanced over her list of postings he realised that they'd missed each other by a matter of weeks in Paris and in Serbia, which was a strange sort of coincidence.

He wondered, just a little, about her relationship with Morrow. There was no doubt she was a beautiful woman and the Director was discrete, but not a monk. He was also a realist and pragmatic to a fault. Gibbs knew there was no way he would deploy a team from DC unless it was absolutely necessary.

When DiNozzo finally fell asleep he read some other files – including the case they were using as cover for the Egyptian authorities and some background information about the joint op with Mossad. Never assume was one of his rules and he didn't want to be guilty of forgetting that when it came to Ziva David – or indeed Jennifer Shepard.

* * *

In a house on the outskirts of Cairo Jennifer Shepard slipped out from between heavy Egyptian cotton sheets and wrapped a silk robe around her as she padded quietly towards the small balcony that adjoined the bedroom. Only when she had settled herself onto one of the chairs and tilted her head back, letting the night air caress her skin, did she relax and let her guard down – a little.

Every day she tried to find a moment to let Jen slip out from behind Jasmine. Every day, if only for a couple of minutes, she let herself think like Jen, let herself be Jen. In those fleeting moments it wasn't the agent that stepped out of the shadows, but a woman she had come to feel that she was losing sight of; the boundaries between her and the persona she'd adopted becoming more and more blurred. It was getting harder to hold onto what separated them. Was Jen becoming Jasmine, or Jasmine becoming Jen? She didn't know anymore.

Now that she was virtually under house arrest it was getting very difficult to find the moment in the day when she felt safe enough to let the mask slip. It had all begun three days ago when Said had suddenly become paranoid; suspicious of everyone – his aides, his overseas contacts, his bodyguards and driver, her. He'd demanded that she come to stay at his house and only when she'd insisted had he agreed to let her collect some clothes from her suite. That had given her just enough time to leave a message for Ziva – and even though she'd alerted her partner that she needed assistance she wasn't really sure what was going on, what had prompted the mistrust.

All he would tell her was that he knew someone was betraying him; but he didn't appear to have any idea about the identity of the 'someone' in question. She wanted to believe that if he suspected her then she wouldn't be alive and sleeping in his bed. But she couldn't afford to be completely sure about that.

She knew that Ziva would have done everything she could to keep her promise to contact NCIS and with her own agency involved she hoped her life wouldn't be easily forfeited – but it was another of the things she couldn't afford to count on. Ziva was her friend and her partner – they'd been through a great deal together and Jen trusted her, as much as she trusted anyone right now. But in the end it might not be Ziva's decision.

"My flower," she didn't move at the sound of Said's voice – he'd been sleeping badly these last few nights and she wasn't surprised that he'd woken. Her absence didn't seem to have provoked his anger or his paranoia; his tone was tender, contrite even and instead of her name he'd used his personal endearment for her.

"Did I wake you?" She asked as he settled onto the arm of her chair; his finger tracing a lock of hair along the column of her neck.

"I couldn't sleep."

She'd got used to him touching her, got used to the intimacy and the sex. Occasionally she tried to reconcile this civilized, cultured man, who spoke three languages and enjoyed classical music, with her quarry - a man who moved money for terrorists and who lived well on the proceeds. But she knew it couldn't be done. That these two men were the same person didn't make him any less her enemy. He had blood on his hands and though she was sure he cared about her, she also knew he'd have her killed in a second if the situation demanded it and experience only a brief moment of regret at his loss.

"You won't tell me what's bothering you?" She asked, running a hand over the tense muscles of his shoulder. She had to be careful, she didn't want to push too much but equally she couldn't afford to arouse his suspicion by not wanting to know what was happening.

"I can't."

"I don't like being kept here Said," her anger at the confinement was real enough, "you have to let me leave sooner or later. I'm not your prisoner."

"I know," his fingers traced her cheek, "you will be able to leave soon – I promise." She nodded, appearing satisfied with his answer but wondering if the concession was real or a trap. If he didn't know who had betrayed him he would do whatever he could to find out who the guilty party was. She would have to be very careful.

His fingers slipped from her face, trailing over her collarbone to travel gracefully past her breasts to toy with the fastening of her robe. She shrugged out of it, knowing the kind of distraction he was seeking and realising that perhaps she needed it as well. As she stood and let him lead her back into the bedroom she tried not to think about the fear she saw lurking in his eyes.

But the agent in her was perfectly aware how dangerous a frightened man could be and before slipping back into Jasmine she let Jen have one final thought. She hoped whoever NCIS was sending out was good; because she had a feeling that she was going to need their help.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

A/N - thanks for your reviews. You are all being very patient - I'm sure you are keen for Gibbs and Jen to actually meet, I promise I'm getting there...

**Kismet – 3**

Gibbs wasn't surprised to find Officer David lounging in the lobby of the hotel when he and DiNozzo arrived. Even though he hadn't let her know where they were staying or when they were due to arrive he assumed someone at headquarters had – or else she'd found the information out from some source of her own.

She made no move to acknowledge their presence while they checked in, but did follow them onto the elevator; slipping between the doors just as they closed.

"Officer David," he greeted. She nodded in return, but her gaze slid towards DiNozzo who was quite blatantly checking her out.

"I could break you in two with my little finger," she observed levelly – which only made DiNozzo leer more.

"When you've both finished flirting," Gibbs said, stopping her instinctive protest with a single look. "What's the situation with the hotel suite?"

"It has not been touched since I spoke to you, but before that the hotel cleaning staff had been inside."

"Then I guess whether we find something depends on how good the cleaning staff is." She followed them onto on to their floor – leaning against a wall and watching Tony struggle with his bags and the card for his room. "You have 5 minutes DiNozzo, I want to look at the hotel suite."

"A shower, some sleep?"

"Five minutes," he repeated, tapping the back of his subordinate's head – in warning more than anything. Their companion from Mossad was something of an unknown quantity and he wasn't sure they could afford for DiNozzo to annoy her.

"Thank you boss,"

Gibbs was slightly surprised when Officer David followed him into his room – but when she dropped a set of black and white photographs onto the bed he understood why. "She is alive."

He glanced over at the photographs as he strapped his spare gun to his ankle. The images had been taken at night and showed Agent Shepard alone, on a balcony – they'd obviously been shot from a distance. "I thought you were told not to risk being seen?"

"I was not seen," she responded, in a tone that suggested she didn't understand what the problem was and, in fact, he had to acknowledge it was probably what he would have done.

"And did Deputy Director David approve that?" At the back of one of the files he'd read on the plane he'd found the small detail that the Deputy Director of Mossad was her father. But he hadn't realised how expressive her face really was, until it suddenly went blank.

"I am not required to report every decision that I make to my superiors."

Gibbs thought that was probably just as well, since he got the sense that she was out on a limb here. It was a place he suspected she wasn't entirely comfortable, which made the reasons for her behaviour all the more interesting. He wondered how much that had to do with the woman in the photographs and then he wondered what that meant for the operation.

* * *

Not even the three years she had spent working with Jen had prepared Ziva David for this. They were quite unlike other agents she had encountered, compared to Mossad officers they appeared ill-disciplined and badly organised and she was slightly irritated that no one had warned her what to expect.

She'd read their records and she knew that Leroy Jethro Gibbs was extremely good at what he did, one of the best agent's NCIS had to offer. She understood that DiNozzo had been handpicked by him, which meant Gibbs must have seen something in him. But at the moment she was struggling to see what that might have been.

There were other things in the dossier Mossad had prepared for her; things about Gibbs' background and his personal life that she instinctively knew he preferred to keep private. But the dossier hadn't prepared her for how compelling he was in person. She'd been in his presence for less that half an hour and already she wanted him to be impressed by her abilities and was determined not to disappoint him, which was more than a little disconcerting.

She found herself wondering how he would get along with Jen – for all they belonged to the same agency they were very different types of agents. She and Jen respected each other and their partnership would not have survived so long without a large measure of trust as well. She was one of the few people around whom Ziva felt safe to let down some of her barriers and she knew the feeling was mutual – even though they were both private and guarded people.

Should she tell Gibbs that she was worried about Jen; that she had been thinking for a while that this operation was taking a toll on her? Even if they hadn't discussed it she could tell that the loss of privacy and the need to be intimate with Gravois was having an enormous impact on her. But would he understand?

For many reasons seeing someone as strong as Jenny Shepard struggling with this was hitting home in a big way. She didn't know yet whether she trusted Leroy Jethro Gibbs enough to be honest with him – to tell him how worried she was. She didn't know if he would have the strength to stand up to Jen – to pull her out if that was what was needed.

* * *

DiNozzo whistled softly as they entered the hotel where 'Jasmine Sterling' had been living for the last year. "Why aren't we staying somewhere like this?"

"Because we aren't posing as financiers who misappropriated 2.5million," Gibbs said, resisting the urge to slap the back of his head.

"The suite is bugged," Officer David informed them, "Jen found it soon after she moved in. We didn't bother to remove the listening device because we assumed that someone on the staff had links to Gravois. It was easier to let them believe we had no idea it was there."

"But you've managed to seal the room?"

"There is a Do Not Disturb sign outside the door," at Tony's sceptical expression she added slightly defensively, "this hotel prides itself on responding to the needs of its guests. But we should be discrete and not take too long."

The first collaborative venture between NCIS and Mossad involved picking the lock of a cleaning cupboard and appropriating a vacuum cleaner, the noise of which would hopefully cover up any sounds made during the search. It was a true collaboration – with David finding a way to accomplish one of DiNozzo's wilder ideas.

Gibbs shook his head and concentrated on moving smoothly around the suite; stopping only to point to the places he wanted photographs to be taken or evidence to be collected. There was no computer – he assumed Shepard had it with her and of course she was far too careful to leave any papers behind her. But he knew that Mossad was supposed to be forwarding all the electronic information they had and, if all else failed, he was hoping that a certain forensic scientist extraordinaire would be able to give them something. Because otherwise he feared they were going to have to sit around Cairo and wait for Agent Shepard to appear for long enough to tell them what the hell was going on.

And as anyone who'd ever worked with him would gladly attest – he wasn't the most patient of men.

* * *

"Gibbs!" Even through a computer screen he could see Abby's pout, "there's no one here to bring me caff pow." On the link that DiNozzo had, eventually, set up back at their hotel he saw her look over her shoulder at Johnson and shoot him a disdainful look. "There's no one to say, 'well done Abs' or to use their super powers to know when I have something to tell them." Obviously realising that she might have upset DiNozzo she added hurriedly. "I miss you too Tony."

Gibbs would never in a million years admit it, but the fact that Abby had taken to DiNozzo was a major point in his favour. Her instincts about people might sometimes be expressed in unusual ways – but they were unerring.

Just as he opened his mouth to ask her what she'd found she said, "and you look sad." She was looking over his shoulder at Officer David, who seemed completely nonplussed by her observation. "Do you want me to ask Tony to give you a hug?"

"No!" Gibbs hid a smile at how disgusted she sounded and then was surprised when she added with more sensitivity that he would have expected, "thank you but I am fine."

"Abby, this is Officer David – Officer David meet Abby Scuito, our forensic scientist. Did you get the samples we collected from the hotel suite?"

"They only got here an hour ago; you know it's like a 12 hour flight from Cairo. I hate to say it Gibbs but it looks to me as though there's going to be nothing there. So far all I can tell you is that the super sexy secret agent has very expensive taste in perfume and cosmetics."

"Who?" He heard Tony choke back a laugh and even Officer David cracked a small smile at her description.

"Agent Shepard – she's like totally hot, and totally up your street Gibbs – I mean she's…"

"Abby," his interjection was none too gentle but she only shrugged and with the rapid change of mood that he was used to continued,

"OK – so, nothing from the hotel room. If there were signs of a struggle they're long gone. Mossad sent me some electronic material but it's pretty messed up; Gravois is using some seriously good encryption material. But I managed to piece some of it together."

"I was told that was impossible," David didn't sound too happy at the news that someone had done better than Mossad.

"Not impossible," Abby replied, "but very, very difficult."

"Score one for NCIS," DiNozzo muttered – a comment that earned him a head-slap.

"The bits and pieces I've managed to put back together are from the last few days. I'll send you over what I have, but in one conversation Gravois is saying he doesn't know who to trust and he sounds scared."

"If he thinks he is being betrayed his instinct might be to keep everyone close," Tony offered. "Which would explain why Jasmine is at his house, why she hasn't been able to leave to make her check-ins." It made sense, but it didn't take them much further forward.

"So, we have no idea whether Agent Shepard's cover has been blown?" he said, rubbing his hand tiredly over his face as he summed up what he was sure they all knew.

"Gibbs," Abby's voice was quiet, "they sent me the financial information as well – Gravois is moving a lot of money and the systems in place to track its movement are good."

"They're Jen's," a quiet voice said beside him – but from the way she nodded he knew Abby had heard.

"What's your point Abs?"

"This operation is big Gibbs, it's the real deal." He'd known that – but still hearing it from Abby had an impact on him. Suddenly he understood that it might not be so easy to get Shepard out of this and that even if she wanted out, the agencies involved might not agree. He shot a look at David and wondered if she knew she might have to choose a side if it came to it.

"Thanks Abby," he looked pointedly at Johnson – still in the background. "I'll make sure someone brings you a caff pow."

As the connection ended he rolled his shoulders and decided he needed a coffee and a little space.

"Don't get into any trouble," he told DiNozzo as he left.

Tony smiled, finally out of Gibbs' sight and turned to his companion and drawled, "so, Officer David – what does a person do for fun in Cairo?"

"I do not know," she responded dismissively. "Miss Scuito is a very strange person. I do not understand why she told Agent Gibbs that Jen was up his street? He does not live in Cairo and we are not on a street?" Tony grinned, realising that although the Mossad officer's command of English was excellent – it didn't extend to colloquialisms. It was a useful piece of information which he filed away for later, while he concentrated on answering her question.

"She meant that Agent Shepard is the kind of woman that Gibbs is usually attracted to," he watched David carefully, studying her reaction, because he'd been wondering about her relationship with her partner.

"And is she?"

"Gibbs and women," Tony shook his head; even in the short time they'd worked together he'd realised that his boss was very attractive to women, but he was choosy and very, very private. "I know he's been married a couple of times. He certainly likes them feisty, but he's got a thing for red heads and she's a brunette so…"

"For red heads?" She was smirking and he opened his mouth to ask her why when her phone beeped. She fished it out and studied it for a moment. "Get Gibbs," she said, "Jen's left the house."

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

A/N - so thanks for the reviews and well - I couldn't delay their first meeting any longer... Enjoy

**Part 4**

Her first intimation that something was going on was when a guy in a loud Hawaiian shirt and dark shades collided with her in the hotel lobby. His apology was a lazy grin and a blatant perusal of her body that made her itch to see if he was still smiling when she introduced her knee to his groin. But there was nothing lazy about the sleight of hand by which he pressed a key card into her hand so she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Jen was perfectly aware that Said was having her watched – she hadn't needed the prickle at the back of her neck as she left the house to tell her she was being followed. But she was still sure that he wasn't anymore suspicious of her than of the other people around him and she intended to keep it that way. But the key card in her hand and the room number inscribed on it was, she hoped, proof that help had arrived.

Either that or she was about to walk into an ambush.

With that in mind her gun was in her hand as she slid the key card into the slot, heard the click of the lock and pushed the door open.

"Shalom Jen," it was the sight of Ziva, the sound of her voice and her slight nod of reassurance that had her lowering her weapon.

"Shalom Ziva," as she kissed her cheek she whispered, "thank you," and felt her partner tighten her arm around her shoulder just for a moment. She stepped back and let her eyes travel to the two men in the room; Ziva followed her gaze and said in what might be a long-suffering tone.

"I think you've already met Agent DiNozzo," Jen raised an eyebrow at him remembering the way he'd looked at her and his smile in response was just a little abashed and far too charming for his own good. She could tell that he knew that he was a lady killer but when she thought about how he'd got the key card into her hand she recognised that there had to be more to him than that. "And this is Special Agent Gibbs."

The older man was standing in the shadows by the window and as Ziva introduced him he barely turned his head. But with the cadence of the light played across his features all Jen was aware of was his eyes; piercing, uncompromising and looking at her as though he could see everything she was working so hard to keep hidden.

"Agent Shepard," his voice was a low growl that did very little to disguise what she interpreted as impatience – not one of her fans she assumed. "Would you like to tell us what we're doing here?"

She bristled at what she interpreted as a suggestion that she'd panicked. She wasn't a probie, she was a seasoned agent, running a high profile undercover operation and if Special (but not as special as he thinks he is) Agent Gibbs didn't realise that she'd be very happy to explain it to him.

He said very little as she recounted the sudden change in Said's behaviour, but she could tell that his eyes were often resting on her, though when she looked at him he always seemed to have just looked away.

Forcing her attention back to Ziva and DiNozzon she was surprised to hear that they had recovered some of Said's recent phone conversations – but not surprised that they reinforced the impression of his paranoia and fear.

"You have no idea what prompted the change?" She knew the expression on her face spelt out what a dumb question she thought that was, because if she knew she'd have dealt with it by now. But she absolutely wasn't going to be intimidated by Agent Gibbs.

"My first thought was that he must have found some of the trace systems we have – but I looked back through the transactions and I can't see how he could have. And he hasn't changed anything; he's using the same systems to move money, I still have all my access to the accounts – which must mean he believes they're secure." She described how his paranoia and suspicion was being expressed – trying to help them understand how diffuse it was. "I don't think he knows what to be afraid of – what form the betrayal takes; it's just there."

"So, is the operation compromised or not?" Agent DiNozzo wasn't the only one who was confused about that.

She was frustrated – this operation had taken up almost two years of her life and now it felt like it was unravelling before her eyes. But she was damned if she was going to give up so easily. "That's what I expect you to tell me." She looked at her watch, "I have to go, but I've brought you Said's schedule and his contacts – I need you to find out why he's behaving like this and I need to know quickly."

She dropped the small card that held all the information onto a table and headed for the door, resisting the urge to look over her shoulder and see if Agent Gibbs had reacted to the fact that suddenly she was the one giving orders.

She wasn't entirely surprised when someone followed her out of the hotel room to catch up with her as she was waiting for the elevator. But she hadn't expected it to be Gibbs – although he didn't look too happy about it either.

"I have to get back," she announced as soon as he stopped beside her – hating how defensive she sounded, as though she was running away. "I need to collect some more clothes – but Said doesn't want me away for too long."

"This won't take long," he followed her into the elevator and as soon as it started to descend pushed a button that seemed to bring it to a halt. "Your operation could be compromised," he announced – as though this might come as news to her. "I need to know what you plan to do about that."

"I thought we'd established your next steps?" she ground out – keeping her temper with difficulty.

"Do you need to be pulled out?" he said, without bothering to respond to her words. He was talking to her as though she was an errant child who'd wandered off from her parents in a park and now needed to be rescued.

"Absolutely not!" she put her hands on her hips and tilted her head up to meet his uncompromising gaze – determined not to give an inch on this. "I need you to find out why Said is behaving this way – I didn't call for a rescue mission. Do your job Agent Gibbs – and I'll do mine."

In some distant part of her mind she recognised that she was channelling her frustration at him, because losing her temper under cover just wasn't an option. But the voice pointing this out to her was quiet and she ignored it.

"Even if it gets you killed?"

"This operation has taken two years of my life – so I know exactly what is at stake here and I'm not pulling out unless I see some proof that my cover is blown. I don't know how you work Agent Gibbs, but I was taught to follow the evidence. So, you find me some evidence and then we'll talk."

Something flickered in his expression – but she couldn't even begin to interpret what it was. The man was like granite – which did very little to explain why she couldn't quite stop herself from looking at him.

"I try not to get my team killed Agent Shepard – that's how I work." He reached into his pocket and fished out something small that glinted in the light. "So, humour me and take this," a small crystal that had formed in the shape of a rose dangled from a fine golden chain. "It's an alarm – break the chain and we'll know you're in trouble. We might even come to your rescue."

She leant back against the wall of the elevator – knowing she was just about to cross a line and not particularly caring.

"Said doesn't like other men giving me jewellery," she said – letting the innuendo drip from the words.

She'd done it deliberately, so she wasn't surprised when something else flared in his eyes and while she tried to guess what it meant, he grabbed her arm and shoved the necklace into her hand.

"Lie," he said and before she could respond he reached for the button and set the lift moving again. Not that she was in any state to find a smart answer – because she was still trying to deal with the way her heart rate had apparently doubled the moment he'd touched her.

* * *

As she stalked out of the elevator without looking back Gibbs was forced to conclude that as first meetings went it hadn't exactly been a resounding success. He couldn't even claim that he hadn't been warned. Morrow had said she had 'a hell of a temper,' and despite that he'd somehow felt the need to bait her and clarify for himself that the Director had not exaggerated.

The fact that when she was pissed her eyes flashed and when she crossed her arms it accentuated her breasts was a mere coincidence. Or that was what he was telling himself.

He understood her hostility, knew that she wouldn't easily give up an operation that had placed her in harms way - literally sleeping with the enemy. His gut twisted at the thought of Gravois touching her, his hands trailing all over pale, smooth skin. Gibbs closed his eyes and ruthlessly pushed that thought away – because she was doing what needed to be done and it wasn't any of his business.

In her place he knew he'd have reacted with the same vehemence; would have fought just as hard to protect the operation and would have demanded evidence before making a decision about its future – probably in similarly acerbic tones. He almost smiled at the way she'd sent him off to do his job – though she must know that she was asking him to do the near impossible. As though she was used to people wanting to do the impossible at her behest.

She hadn't been what he was expecting. He'd been too caught up in her collaboration with Mossad, put off by the counter-intelligence work and based on that he'd made assumptions about Jenny Shepard and he'd been wrong.

He should have listened to what Morrow had said about her, should have asked her partner what sort of Agent she was – because he'd been in her presence about thirty seconds when he knew that he'd completely misread her; and he was angry at himself for making such an amateur mistake.

Despite that he hadn't realised just how deeply she'd got to him until he'd grasped her hand and found himself within a hairs-breadth of pulling her to him and kissing her. Her magnetism, the flare of heat and attraction he'd experienced was almost a personal affront to his judgement and only in that moment did he realise that he'd behaved as though it was her fault that he was already in over his head.

This didn't happen to him; he'd never been attracted to a colleague before and though he liked feisty women he'd always been convinced that relationships between agents were a very bad idea – messy and complicated. Nothing about this situation had convinced him that he was wrong about that.

She wasn't even a red head.

In his professional judgement it was a damn mess.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

A/N - thanks for the reviews. About a little revelation in this chapter - it's an AU, so I'm allowed!

**Part 5**

He was finding it difficult to stop thinking about her and though he knew that was inevitable given the nature of the operation he also knew that wasn't the only reason she was on his mind.

Gibbs ran his hand wearily over his face and drained his glass of bourbon. Reluctantly he drew his eyes back to the photographs spread out on the desk before him. Jennifer Shepard gazed up at him; her expression soft, her lips on the verge of curving into a smile. Unfortunately her gaze was directed towards Said Gravois and the only limited reassurance Gibbs was prepared to take from the photograph was the way her hand was toying with the small stone at her throat. At least she was wearing the alarm.

Some of the photographs were weeks or months old; they just _happened_ to have found their way out of the file and were now scattered in front of him. But there were more recent images as well – taken just hours before when Gravois had finally emerged from seclusion to have dinner with Jasmine, in an exclusive restaurant.

Gibbs' head was full of images of the way Gravois had touched his companion, the way he had whispered in her ear, kissed her hand. He knew it was a mistake to retreat to his room to drink bourbon and look at the photographs again – but he couldn't stop himself; just as he couldn't stop himself from remembering the way Jasmine had pulled Said close and kissed him.

The surveillance had been his own idea – a calculated risk to determine if anyone else was watching them. A risk that told them nothing, unless you counted his own realisation that seeing her wrapped around another man hit him like a blow to the stomach.

They were doing what they could to get to the bottom of what had rattled Gravois. Abby was trying to unscramble more of the electronic communications, a surveillance team was in place to keep watch on the house and Ziva was using Mossad's considerable resources to check into Gravois' movements and contacts in the days leading up to his sudden change in behaviour.

Gibbs almost managed a smile at the thought of Officer David. He was impressed by her resourcefulness, by her determination and by the way she handled DiNozzo.

His eyes moved back to the images before him and he reminded himself sternly that he didn't know Jennifer Shepard, that he'd experienced a physical attraction to a beautiful woman – inconvenient but hardly a problem.

Yet he knew it was more than that. His reaction to her had been based upon more than the way she looked. It had been the way she'd responded to him, the way she'd stood her ground and taken control of the situation. In the photographs before him she was wearing a dress that captured the light, shimmering with her every movement; she was breathtaking and it hadn't only been Gravois and the surveillance team who had watched her every move in the restaurant. But she'd been more captivating in an elevator wearing a white t'shirt and jeans and telling him how to do his job. He had no doubts that it was Jennifer Shepard that he wanted to get to know better – he wasn't interested in Jasmine Sterling.

He looked up at the soft tap to the door – hoping it wasn't DiNozzo, who was trying his patience more than usual at the moment. He was relieved when Officer David stepped into the room but her movements faltered as she saw the photographs. For a very brief moment her expression darkened.

"I thought we had established there was nothing of use from tonight's surveillance?" she said – the rest of her question expressed by the way she raised her eyebrow at him.

"Never assume – always double-check." He told her, though he knew he'd broken that particular rule himself lately.

In one photograph taken months ago in Paris, Jasmine was standing in Gravois' embrace; his lips resting against her forehead. Nothing in her expression or body language indicated that she was in any way uncomfortable with the intimacy.

"She's good," he said, aware that he was giving the compliment reluctantly and to the wrong person.

"Perhaps too good," Ziva offered in response.

"You think she has feelings for Gravois?" he asked quickly, not sure what else she could mean. Ziva's lip curled with contempt and she shook her head.

"If she does they are not good feelings. I meant that both our agencies are delighted to have such a talented undercover agent, one in such a useful position. Jenny knows there will be great – reluctance to end this operation and that when Said Gravois is put out of business, Jasmine Sterling could all too easily take his place."

What she was talking about was a suicide mission.

He thought about telling her what Morrow had said – but now he understood why Director had left the decision about getting Shepard out up to him, why there was nothing on the record about it. Morrow must know how high the stakes were and even Gibbs was forced to admit that an undercover agent placed to co-ordinate money flowing to and from terrorist groups would be of immense value to any number of agencies.

Jennifer Shepard was no fool, she must be aware that her time as Jasmine Sterling might only be beginning. He wondered how she felt about that – whether that was what she'd signed up for, whether it would effect her decision to let him pull her out – to rescue her.

"She doesn't need any more complications," Ziva told him and now there was no mistaking that she was warning him off.

Suddenly he was on alert – because she was being deadly serious here and given who she worked for he had to assume she had access to a lot of information about his past.

"Mossad give you a full run down?" he questioned. She looked uncomfortable for a moment – as though she had not expected him to draw that conclusion.

"They wanted me to know who I would be dealing with."

"So you could use the information – if the situation required it?" She didn't move – but he didn't need to hear her answer. "Well, now I know that you know. And I'll be ready – should the situation require it. But, from what I've seen Agent Shepard can make her own decisions – professionally and personally." He stared at her, waiting for the come back - surprised when it didn't arrive.

Instead she looked upset. Just for an instant. If he didn't know better he'd think… The light-bulb went on in his head and he could have head slapped himself for not seeing it earlier. "She know?" He asked with as much care as he could manage.

Ziva shook her head, her expression leaving him in no doubt that she was as uncomfortable discussing this as he was. "I did not want to make her responsible for my feelings. I don't even know what I feel. My father thinks the decadent American has made me weak."

"Well, from what I've seen she hasn't," he told her and was surprised to see how seriously she took his compliment.

"But she has shown me that there is more to life than Mossad." Gibbs knew he wasn't good at this and he wished Ducky was here to offer his unique brand of advice and then chuckle at the news that Gibbs and a female Mossad officer were attracted to the same woman and that neither of them seemed happy about the situation.

But maybe he wasn't as out of his depth as he thought. Officer David clearly didn't want to talk about this, to anyone and whatever she felt for her partner he had a feeling she intended to keep it to herself. And her analysis of him was dead on.

He definitely wasn't a good bet for a woman like Jenny Shepard. He could lose himself in photographs of her as much as he liked but it would do nothing to change the fact that he was old, tired and in possession of a past that would send an intelligent and self-sufficient woman running for cover.

The ringing of a cell phone broke what was becoming an awkward silence and he listened to her conversation – trying to tell what was happening by her body language as he couldn't understand a word. Despite not speaking any Hebrew he knew something had changed and before she had ended the call he had reached for his own phone to summon DiNozzo from whatever gin joint he'd slunk off to.

"We have something," she said – energy vibrating across her tone, "but it's not good."

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

A/N - thanks for the reviews. I'm not completely sure this works - but well, maybe it does. Thanks to E for all her wise words.

**Part 6**

The surveillance at the restaurant had to have been Gibbs' idea, she and Ziva had decided months ago that trying to keep that close a watch on Said was too risky, but apparently what she thought didn't count for too much at the moment. Jen almost wished she'd left the matter in the hands of Mossad – though a moment's reflection told her that in that scenario she'd have lost just as much control; probably more.

And that was what was really bothering her. She didn't like her fate being in someone else's hands. Let alone someone who had provoked her into losing her temper a mere 10 minutes into their acquaintance.

But, Agent Gibbs was NCIS' choice, Director Morrow's choice. And she had to respect that – even if she thought the man needed an attitude adjustment.

Said's paranoia meant that he was in a heightened state of awareness so in the restaurant she'd made sure his attention stayed on her – fortunately that wasn't too much of a challenge.

He'd asked her about the necklace, as she'd known he would, and she'd told him that she'd found it in a flea market in Paris and added softly that she was wearing it because it went with her dress. Since he'd brought her the dress in question he could hardly fault her taste and, like the last time she'd worn it, he was far more interested in getting her out of it.

Once or twice she'd found herself touching the stone at her throat, her fingertips grazing the crystal; maybe because she knew who was watching her. But she couldn't afford to let herself become preoccupied with him; even if she still shivered at the thought of his strong, callused fingers grasping her wrist and then brushing her palm as he shoved the necklace into her hand.

"Jasmine?" she actually jumped at the gentle touch to her cheek – realising with shock that Said had emerged from the bathroom to find her day-dreaming.

"I was miles away," she'd never done that before, never let him catch her as Jenny – let alone whilst thinking about another man. But he smiled at her and pressed a kiss to her head as he poured himself a cup of coffee from the breakfast tray.

"Somewhere nice?"

"A beach in the Caribbean." She offered, her mind moving quickly to try to make the most of the situation. "There was sun, sea – a plentiful supply of pina colada and you were there as well."

"Applying your sun screen I assume?"

"Among other things," she pulled him towards her, "maybe we need to get away for a while," she said quietly; every inch his concerned lover.

"That's not a bad idea," she was smiling at him when her cell phone beeped.

* * *

This time it was Ziva who followed her into the elevator and after the difficulty she'd had persuading Said to let her leave she was relieved to be in a familiar presence – she hadn't been alone with her partner since this whole mess had begun.

"What's going on?" She asked – knowing that Ziva would never have risked a direct message unless it was important.

"Agent Gibbs is waiting,"

"Well, let him wait – Ziva?"

"We found something. We're using the suite next door to yours."

"Does this hotel know you're using its empty rooms whenever you need a place to meet. I assume you aren't staying here?"

"We're being discrete. I am sure the hotel do not know we are using the rooms. Agent Gibbs thought it would be less dangerous to meet here."

"Oh of course he did," she couldn't argue with the logic but she was already tired of hearing his name drop from her partner's lips. The elevator stopped at the floor of the suite and as they got out she asked, "so, what's he like to work with?"

"More impressive than I expected." Jen was surprised and a little disgruntled because she knew exactly how difficult it was to impress Ziva; it had been years before she'd got more than polite tolerance from her partner and even now she wasn't really sure how the younger woman rated her skills.

"Impressive," she queried, stretching the word out and raising an eyebrow. Ziva rolled her eyes.

"You know I do not understand American innuendo. I mean he is sharp and experienced – I am learning a great deal from him."

"If he's so good it's a shame he is such an arrogant pain in the ass."

"Perhaps he is not arrogant – you were not exactly co-operative."

"He started it," Jen said – knowing she sounded exactly like a kid in the playground. "Acting as though this whole situation was beneath him. How was I supposed to respond to that?"

"He knows you are good a good agent – he told me so himself. You could actually try to work with him?"

"All right," she pulled a face at Ziva, mollified by a compliment she hadn't been expecting "I'll go easy on him. So, when he's not being a pain in the ass, what's he like?"

"I told you – impressive, though I think he is difficult to get to know. I also do not imagine he enjoys being kept waiting."

"OK," Jen raised her hands in surrender. But just as they reached the door to the suite Ziva paused and shot her a look,

"And he is at least as interested in you as you seem to be in him."

"I'm not…!" Jen protested, hating Ziva's knowing smirk and the blush she could feel on her cheeks. But she'd already pushed the door open and Jen had no choice but to follow her inside.

She was conscious of Gibbs immediately – though she barely glanced his way, but even so it took her a moment to notice DiNozzo lolling in a chair and the laptop open on the desk."It's good to see you Agent Shepard," the voice was one she knew and she took a closer look at the computer, smiling as a familiar face filled the screen.

"Director," she greeted warmly.

"Well," Morrow said, "now that you're here let's get on with this. Jethro?" Jethro – his name was Jethro? She wouldn't have guessed that in a hundred years and as she processed the information she couldn't help but look over her shoulder at the man in question.

"Last night Officer David was informed that the Egyptian Police had discovered a body. This man," he nodded towards DiNozzo, who handed over a photo, "was very briefly in Gravois' company a week ago just before Agent Shepard reported the change in his behaviour. We've identified him as Rashid Abdullah – a minor peddler of information between terrorist groups. We think it is likely that he warned Gravois, probably for money – and then was killed for blabbing."

Jen listened with growing disbelief – a dead man who traded information, a contact with Gravois that she knew nothing about and the tiny links in a chain that went all the way back to a threat that explained Said's fear and paranoia all too well.

No wonder he had agreed to her suggestion that they get away for a while – she was surprised that he hadn't taken flight already. At last it was clear that it wasn't the authorities that he feared, but a radical group, even by the standards of those he worked for, who had a history of targeting people moving money for other terrorists – and stealing it out from under their noses.

"They don't like bankers much," Gibbs said as DiNozzo handed over some more photographs, these ones showing dead bodies and a burnt out house. "Mossad think this was their work. It was a small scale operation, looks like they invaded the house, tortured the occupants until they handed over the access codes to accounts and then killed them all. The accounts were all cleared out – the money used to buy weapons."

"If you're a terrorist where do you go to report a crime?" DiNozzo quipped, but no one responded

"The situation is very serious," Morrow was saying, his warning enough to chasten the junior agent – more or less.

"So - what do we do?" DiNozzo asked instead.

"It's Agent Shepard's decision." She looked up, shaken out of her stupor by Gibbs' voice. She knew he understood the gravity of the situation but she had been feeling as though she was losing control and she hadn't expected him to respect her enough to hand it back to her.

There was really no choice, and as she watched him she knew that he realised that as well. Her mind flashed rapidly over options; searching for something they had missed. If they pulled the operation now they'd get Said, get the money and most of his clients – but she'd been determined that they'd follow the money all the way to its destination and it was hard to give up that idea. And still he was watching her, saying nothing – as though he knew that she needed to be sure.

"We pull the operation," she said, turning her head back to Morrow on the screen. "If they're targeting him we risk losing everything."

"Mossad will not be pleased," Ziva said – and Jen knew she was right.

"I'll talk to our colleagues in Mossad," Morrow said, "and set the wheels in motion. It's going to take 24 hours to get all the warrants – not to mention arranging the co-ordination between agencies. Perhaps now we can increase the surveillance on Gravois?" Jenny saw the slight smile flicker across Gibbs' expression and was surprised when Morrow chuckled. "I see you've already taken that decision out of my hands. Thank you Jethro – I appreciate it."

* * *

He had second and third thoughts about following her – but when Agent Shepard had slipped out of the hotel suite he'd glanced towards Officer David; who had inclined her head to indicate that he should go after her. It wasn't what he was expecting – but he certainly agreed that someone needed to keep her in their sights.

She'd made a tough call – made it only after thinking through all the alternatives. There was no doubt that she was sharp and intelligent and that she had nerve; but he had seen just how much the decision had cost her and he admired the strength it had taken to make it anyway.

He stepped out onto the roof, wishing he'd brought his sunglasses; until squinting against the sun he spotted her looking out over the city.

"I'm fine," she said automatically, not turning around so he could decide if he believed her. "I just wanted a few more days, or weeks – trace the money a few steps further along."

"They'll always be another step, another reason to delay" he offered, "this one's just too dangerous."

"You ever been undercover?" She asked, surprising him with her question.

"For a few days, a couple of weeks at the most. Apparently I look a lot like an ex-marine." His attempt at humour barely made an impact – but she did turn around to look at him.

"It eats into you," she said, "takes you over. Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever find myself again. Good undercover agents don't pretend – they bring something of themselves to the person they've become. Maybe there's too much of me in Jasmine."

He watched her for a moment, taking a step closer to better see the expressions darting across her face. The one that he was sure he'd interpreted correctly was embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I…"

"Don't apologise," he told her, "it's a sign of weakness." She folded her arms and looked up at him with what might be amusement.

"So, what does that mean – that you're never wrong?"

"Almost never."

"My God – you really do have an ego the size of a planet."

"You aren't the first person to tell me that."

She smiled – the strain dropping away from her face and he couldn't help his reaction; the sharp intake of breath that had her eyes widening.

"Just when I thought things couldn't become any more complicated," she observed wryly. He wasn't entirely sure what she was talking about until she gestured to the diminished space between them. "I don't do this," she said.

"Me neither,"

"Good to know." And still he didn't move – and neither did she and if anything the space between them had become far smaller. "I should get back," she said at last, "Said wasn't pleased that I left, I had to tell him it was an emergency."

"You're going back?"

"If I don't he'll be gone before we get the warrants – with most of the money." He hadn't thought it through – he'd imagined she'd co-ordinate from this end, that there would be no need for her to return to the house.

"So what's the plan – they get you out just before the arrests and then you re-surface somewhere else to take over the business."

"That's one option,"

"Morrow told me to get you out." She looked surprised and he realised that she had no idea how highly the Director thought of her. "Forget what you think you ought to do – he'll cover it, but it's your decision." She bit her lip and tilted her head to look up at him.

"I seem to be making a lot of difficult decisions today." He couldn't read her – though that might be because it was a little too easy to get lost in her eyes. "Let's get Said under lock and key – and then I'll think about it."

It wasn't the answer he wanted, but it was the one he expected. He didn't have to like it and from the way his gut was acting up he had every reason not to, but it wasn't his decision to make.

Finally giving into the temptation that had been building within him since he'd seen her walk into the hotel suite, if not since the first time he'd set eyes on her, he touched his index finger to the pendant at her throat. "Do me a favour – don't take this off?"

Her eyes fluttered closed as his finger trailed along her collarbone – he was no longer making any attempt to pretend that he was touching the pendant. "God" she murmured and he knew she'd felt it too – the heat building between them in a slow burn, despite his having barely touched her.

He'd reached for her before he was aware of what he was doing, his hands settling on her hips as he pulled her towards him. "Don't," she breathed, opening her eyes and pressing her hand against his lips. "If you kiss me, I'm going to think about you every time he touches me tonight." She traced the place his lips joined with her fingertip and then pulled back – as though she had never meant to reveal so much. "And I'm already thinking about you far too much."

Even if she hadn't spoken he'd have known from the way she touched that she was just as affected by this as he was. He backed away, but made no move to relax his hold on her. He rubbed his thumb back and forth at her hip; she shifted fractionally and her shirt rode up. He couldn't resist and his fingertips stroked over soft, warm flesh that he knew he could easily become addicted to touching. "I have to go," she whispered – reluctance tingeing her voice.

"You keep saying that."

"And this time I mean it." He let her go, watching as she strode towards the doorway – smiling at the determination that was etched into every stride.

"Watch you back Agent Shepard!" He called after her and she stopped, turning to look over her shoulder. Smiling quickly at him she replied,

"Count on it, Agent Gibbs," before disappearing back inside.

He took her place looking out over the edge of the roof, trying to imagine that he'd be able to see her leaving. He'd found it hard to stomach the thought of Gravois touching her before, but it was much more difficult now. And she'd practically told him that Gravois would be touching her.

He wished he'd kissed her.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

A/N - thanks for the reviews. Things are going to get a little dark.

**Part 7**

She wished she'd let him kiss her.

Even now hours later, when it would be far safer not to be thinking about it, she could feel his fingertips grazing her skin. Her mind was stubbornly refusing to let her forget how his lips had felt when she'd pressed her hand to his mouth and was instead busily extrapolating how those same lips would feel against hers – in fact how they'd feel all over her body.

She hadn't lied when she told him that she didn't do this – didn't mix her personal and professional lives. Over the years there had been several advances from men she'd been working with, some of them almost embarrassingly clumsy. But she'd never been even remotely tempted to accept any of them. And now there was Gibbs.

She didn't want to be back here, in a house where she had to be careful all of the time, censor her every thought. The truth was, she wanted to be standing on a rooftop, gazing into the eyes of a man she strongly suspected could drive her crazy; given the opportunity.

It didn't help that the atmosphere in the house was terrible. When she had returned Said had barely spoken to her and now he was both studiously ignoring her and at the same time watching her every move. It wasn't exactly relaxing. Normally quiet and considerate she'd seen him in a mood like this once or twice before and on those occasions she had borne the brunt of his anger and his possessiveness. The three glasses of wine he drank with dinner only fuelled the anger that swirled around him; she sipped her own drink and tried to work how she was going to manage this situation. She didn't have high hopes for the rest of the evening, which only made her regret even more that she wasn't back on the roof watching another man's eyes darken as he looked at her.

"I think I'll have a bath and an early night," she said, pushing her plate away and topping up her wine glass. She was hoping to retreat to the privacy of the bathroom and then be asleep before he came to bed.But it wasn't that easy.

He followed her upstairs, drawing her to him before she reached the bathroom. "I hate it when we fight,"

"Then don't treat me like this; don't get angry because I have my own life, because I want my own space now and again. I'm not your possession Said, you don't own me. I hate feeling as though you don't trust me." The flicker in his expression was all the confirmation she needed. "You don't trust me," she said flatly.

"I want to," he replied, "but you disappeared today." She waited, watching him – clearly she couldn't tell him that she knew he'd been having her followed, or that months ago he'd bugged her hotel suite. She was trying to decide what this was all about, whether he suspected her of being the person who had betrayed him. "You could be seeing another man."

He'd been possessive before – noticing when other men paid her too much attention. She'd been careful to reassure him – because after all he was the only person she was interested in. But for some reason she couldn't muster the explanation he needed. "Is there someone else Jasmine?" He turned her to face him, gripping her shoulders – almost shaking her.

Unbidden the image of Gibbs flickered through her mind but defiantly she met Said's angry stare. "I've barely been out of your presence for the last week. How would I have the chance to meet someone?"

She'd never resisted him; wasn't intending to do so now. But when he moved to kiss her she flinched. "You're hurting me!" He didn't listen, pressing his lips to hers almost desperately.

"I can't let you go," he told her, moving from her mouth to suckle her neck, in all likelihood leaving marks on her skin. "I won't let you go, Jasmine."

The mix of emotions in his touch was dizzying. She could taste his fear, his anger, his desperation and it was impossible to disentangle the cause of it. Was it the threat that stalked him, or his desire to possess her? Had one been set alight by the other and was now engulfing him?

And she was the one he took it out on. His grasp was tighter than usual, his urgency palpable. He pushed her back onto the bed, his fingers fumbling to remove her clothing, ripping her blouse when he couldn't unfasten the buttons quickly enough.

She swallowed a cry as he bit the swell of her breast – knowing that in the dim recesses of his mind he wanted and needed to mark her.

She pushed back the instinct to fight him and let herself surrender instead. But she closed her eyes and as he moved inside her she wished herself back onto the rooftop, with Gibbs' touch igniting her senses and his respect for her decision blazing between them like a beacon.

It wasn't a gentle or particular pleasant encounter, but at least it didn't last for very long. Said rolled off her at as soon as it was over and was apparently unconscious seconds later. She curled onto her side, wondering when her head had started to feel so heavy. But she refused to let herself be upset by an encounter which, after all, went along with what she had signed up for when she'd taken on this assignment.

She was dizzy; her body didn't feel right and it was more than Said's rough treatment; something was wrong. She panicked, trying to reach the necklace to raise the alarm, but her limbs wouldn't move. She could feel her consciousness slipping away and no matter how she struggled she couldn't hold onto it, couldn't fight the darkness as it swept her away.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

A/N - thanks for not killing me for the cliffhanger - as a reward here's a speedy update.

**Part 8**

His gut was playing up. Was it the woman, or the case? He wasn't sure and since the woman _was_ the case he figured it was pointless trying to disentangle the two. Agent Shepard, he wasn't ready to think about her as Jenny yet, had succeeded in throwing a wrench in a carefully ordered, if not particularly cheerful, existence.

Normally in this sort of mood he would have retreated to his basement to work on the boat. But with that option not available to him he'd opted for the gym instead, hoping to tire himself out enough to catch a few hours of sleep. With Morrow sorting warrants and co-ordinating arrests and freezing Gravois' assets, the plan was to swoop on the house first thing in the morning.

He needed to get away from DiNozzo and David. Both of them knew he'd followed Shepard onto the roof and apparently had drawn their own conclusions as to what had transpired between them. David was quiet and watchful, leaving him wondering whether she would get around to saying what was on her mind, or whether she would just wait until he was asleep and smother him. There was no such subtlety with DiNozzo, who was trying to suppress a constant smirk and who had earned a head-slap with the comment, "good to see you broadening your horizons beyond red heads boss."

He'd barely got back to his hotel room when someone banged on the door, he grabbed his gun and pushed it open. "The surveillance team reported two cars with armed men at the house," David said as an opener.

"They're hitting the house now," he concluded remembering the photographs of burnt corpses from their earlier victims. David nodded tightly. "DiNozzo!" He bellowed – impressed when Tony emerged, gun already in his holster. "Let's go!"

As they reached David's car he could see DiNozzo reaching to take the car keys from her. Having experienced David's driving he could understand the impulse to intervene – but she knew the route and they were in a hurry. "She drives," he said firmly, bundling the younger agent into the back. She'd pulled away before he'd closed the door, the tyres screeching in protest.

"We'll be no good to her if we don't get there in one piece," he told David – noting the way her hands were gripping the steering wheel.

"We will," she responded – his caution having no noticeable effect on her speed.

They sped through the streets, dodging the traffic that was still on the roads. The silence in the car was broken by a sound like a low wail from Tony's cell phone. "DiNozzo," he growled about to castigate him for having the phone make such an irritating sound. But the words died when Tony swallowed nervously,

"Boss," he said, "that was the alarm – she's broken the necklace."

* * *

As she awoke the first thing Jen was aware of was the pounding in her head. Her eyes felt heavy and refused to open straight away. A familiar scent tickled her nose; copper and warmth, sweet – almost sickly. What was it? Her mind supplied the word 'blood' and she forced her eyes open.

She turned her head and fought her gag reflex as the dim light in the room revealed the gaping wound at Said's throat and the blood that seemed to still be oozing from it. As she struggled to sit up the prick of steel at her own throat made her freeze. She looked up into eyes she knew – eyes that Said had trusted to drive his car and run errands for him and concluded that the warning had been accurate – someone had betrayed them. "The only reason you are still alive is because I know you have access to all the accounts," he told her.

Suddenly the lights were turned on and, as she blinked in reaction, men poured into the room. They were talking in a language that Jasmine did not understand – but that Jennifer Shepard knew enough of to get by. They were debating whether to kill her once she gave them what they wanted, or take her with them and keep her as a hostage – executing her only after filming her fate and showing it on the internet.

She took another look at Said's body and shuddered, realising how close she'd come to being slaughtered in her sleep. The drug must have been in the wine they'd drunk – there would have been ample opportunity to slip something into it, especially for a member of the household.

"Get up," another man demanded and she cast a look at the blood soaked sheet, recoiling at the thought of wrapping it around her. "I said get up!" He grabbed her, pulling her out of the bed, her nudity clearly a matter of no consequence to him. She felt as though her life was hanging by a thread – it's only value the access to Said's accounts that she was now the only one to possess. Their betrayer had, perhaps, done her a favour in killing Said – they wouldn't want to risk coming away empty-handed.

"Let me get dressed," she said, "I'll give you the information you need – but not like this."

"What makes you think we will not force you to give us the information anyway?" She thought back to the photographs she had seen in the hotel suite and knew that they would torture her without a second thought.

"Just let me put some clothes on, please." A curt nod followed and she scrambled to pull jeans, underwear and a jumper out of the closet.

She turned her back to dress, provoking a curse and a stream of laughter. As she pulled the sweater over her head her fingers tightened on the necklace and she gave it a sharp tug, relishing the bite of the chain on her skin before it snapped. She caught the broken chain and the pendant before it could fall and carried on dressing. As she stuffed the remains into the pocket of her jeans she tightened her grip on the rose shaped crystal for a moment – praying that she had enough time for help to reach her.

* * *

"How many?" Gibbs demanded – not waiting for David to conclude her conversation with the surveillance team.

"Eight," she said tersely – "there were five people in the house – including Jenny and Gravois. And since they got past the security system at the gate we should assume one of them is a traitor."

It had been over ten minutes since the alarm had been activated and the truth was that Agent Shepard could be dead; Gibbs knew it, they all knew it. They didn't need both of them to gain access to the accounts. On the other hand, the way they worked could involve torturing the woman to get the man to give them the information.

"Are we going in?" DiNozzo asked, a question made superfluous by a sudden burst of gunfire.

* * *

In Said's study, with the lap top open in front of her and two men with guns watching her every move Jenny Shepard took a moment to assess her position. They didn't know it – but she had left Jasmine Sterling behind in that bedroom, she had no use for her now.

The situation was not promising; Said and two other men who'd worked for him were dead. So far she had seen eight men in the house, all of them armed and she wouldn't bet against them having reinforcements nearby.

But the situation wasn't entirely hopeless; the surveillance team was still out there and from what she could tell her captors had no idea of their presence, which meant they also had no idea who she really was. The element of surprise was on her side – she just had to find a way to use it.

Also on her side was the fiendishly complex security system she and Said had set up. In actual fact there were no access codes she could simply hand over – instead there was a very complicated programme that had the computer 'expert' next to her widening his eyes and looking worried as she started to explain it to him.

Clearly they'd never attacked such a complex operation before and if she had any say in the matter their first foray into the big league was going to be far from easy.

She was only going to get one chance. Two men, two guns – her own weapon was inaccessible – she needed one of theirs.

While she talked about the access system she watched the second man out of the corner of her eye – noting the way that his eyes were glazing over. The moment his attention wandered across the room to take in Said's art collection she leaned forward, pointing out something to the man beside her and slammed his head into the desk.

His gun was in her hand before his companion realised what had happened. As he turned back to her she dispatched him with a single shot, following through to kill the second man as he struggled to his feet, still dazed by the blow to his head.

The shots would alert the rest of the gang and she moved rapidly, diving for the door and firing at the man who emerged just as she did. She sprinted for the stairs, not even looking back to see if she had hit him; conscious only of the sound of running feet and gunshots that pursued her. She was desperate for a position she could defend.

She burst into the bedroom, realising too late that it wasn't empty, as she'd expected; Said's former driver was busy trying on his bosses clothes. His weapon wasn't within reach, but he lunged at her before she could get a shot off, knocking the weapon out of her hand.

She brought him down with her and they grappled; she felt the thrust of steel to her side and remembered the knife he'd held against her throat earlier. His angle was off and though pain sliced through her side she kept fighting, knowing her only chance was to get to the gun. She scrambled for it when his grip loosened – but he kicked her out of the way, his hand tightening on it first. She flicked at his legs with her feet – trying to bring him down again but missed and he pivoted towards her, gun raised.

She felt the heat of the shot, heard it roar past her and as he slumped forward looked up to find a familiar figure in the doorway.

"Ziva," she breathed, relief coursing through her at the sight of her partner.

"You are injured," Ziva observed, offering Jen a hand as she scrambled to her feet.

"It's a scratch," there was blood on the sweater and she was aware of the ripple of pain as she bent to retrieve her gun. She pressed down on the wound, hoping the bleeding would stop – watching the way that Ziva looked at her, as though she didn't entirely believe her.

Gibbs met them on the stairs, his eyes drifting over her face, then to her side, taking in the blood. But he didn't say anything and neither did she.

"Boss," DiNozzo appeared in the hallway, "surveillance team spotted two more cars. We have a couple of minutes, tops."

"Let's go. DiNozzo, take point, David – with Agent Shepard." When she started to tell him she didn't need help, he said, "the cars are with the surveillance team – it's a good 5 minute run. Under normal circumstances I'm sure you could make it easily – but you're bleeding, you look pale and I don't want to have to carry you." She didn't argue – because from the look in his eye if she tried, he might just sling her over his shoulder anyway. She pressed her hand to her side again and looked down at the blood on her hand. He might have a point.

As they slipped outside, letting the night wrap around them, she glanced back over her shoulder. She was leaving Jasmine Sterling behind in that house and the thought exhilarated her. Her gaze slipped to Gibbs, covering their rear – their eyes met and he nodded once. She smiled at him, then turned her attention back to DiNozzo who was leading them back to the cars and with a little luck to safety.

TBC

A/N 2 - OK I have to confess, this whole story was inspired by that line in Kill Ari about Ziva saving Jen's life. So - it had to be Ziva, not Gibbs.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N - thanks for the reviews. This was a bit of a challenge to write - I'm glad to have finally got it to a place where I feel happy posting it. Thanks E!

**Part 9**

Gibbs didn't stop worrying when they reached the cars – but a little of the tension eased as he shoved Shepard into the backseat and followed her in, telling David to get them the hell out of there. He almost cracked a smile at the gasp DiNozzo sucked in from the passenger seat as she pulled away.

He could tell that Shepard's injury was bothering her; a wound to the side was unlikely to react well to a run over unfamiliar ground, in the dark. But she had kept pace with them – though every single step must have eaten into her strength. David hadn't strayed from her side and Gibbs had trusted her to watch her partner's back; while he concentrated on making sure they weren't being followed.

"Oh God – I'd forgotten about your driving," Shepard said as the car took a corner. She leaned back against the car seat and closing her eyes in what might have been pain – or possibly fear.

"Where are we going?" DiNozzo asked.

"Safe house," was all David volunteered, her tone enough to prevent him from challenging her any further.

"Agent Gibbs, give me your phone," he looked over at Shepard, her eyes were still closed but she was holding her hand out. "I need to call Morrow; we have to freeze the accounts now."

He wasn't going to argue with her analysis of what needed to happen; it was her operation after all. He handed over the phone, watching as she got straight through to Morrow – amused that she had correctly assumed he would have all the Director's numbers on his phone.

"There is a first aid kit under your seat," David said, meeting his eyes in the rear view mirror. Gibbs reached between his legs and found it, finding it well stocked with painkillers and bandages.

While she was still talking to Morrow he reached over and lifted her other hand from her side, wincing as he saw the blood. He pressed his hand to the wound – applying pressure and not missing the way her stomach muscles tightened at his touch. It was enough to momentarily draw her attention away from her conversation and her eyes were still a little wide as she returned to it.

Pushing his luck he pulled the phone out of her hands, "Sir, Agent Shepard has been injured, we're heading for a safe house now."

"How bad is it?" Morrow said, "does she need a hospital?"

"I don't think so," he said looking over at her, "I'll take care of it." He tuned out whatever Morrow's response was, conscious of his hand, just about her hip bone.

"I'll leave matters in your capable hands then Jethro,"

He snapped the phone shut and when she looked over at him, an eyebrow raised, he said, "The Director wants you to get some rest."

When he offered her the painkillers from the first aid kit; she hesitated, before shaking her head. "They drugged our wine, I didn't drink too much of it but it's probably not a good idea to take anything else until it's out of my system."

"Gravois?" he asked – realising, albeit a little belatedly, that they were supposed to have been arresting him.

"Dead," Her tone was flat, her expression unreadable. He didn't ask.

He was still wondering about her lack of a response when the car stopped in front of a large store. "Safe house is on the top floor," David told them, "there is an exit onto the roof if you need it. Jen knows where the rendezvous is if you have to leave fast."

"Where are you going?" DiNozzo asked.

"To clean out your hotel rooms, in case the Egyptian Police come looking for you or for 'Jasmine'."

"You want to take DiNozzo with you?" Gibbs offered, clambering out of the back of the car, offering a hand to Shepard, which she ignored.

"That will not be necessary." Gibbs watched as David's eyes followed her partner's careful movements. The bleeding had stopped and she didn't look as pale as she had before – but that didn't mean she was in great shape. "Jen, the wound needs to be looked at."

"It's fine Ziva,"

"You are safe here – you should take the time to be treated. Just in case."

"Always such a ray of sunshine," but when David continued to look at her, she shrugged and conceded. "Fine."

The safe house was a small apartment above the store – there were two bedrooms, one with a bathroom attached. The second bedroom and the living space had small balconies with roof access. As he moved around, familiarising himself with the space Gibbs could tell that the location was ideal. The area was densely packed with buildings, making an escape over the rooftops a very viable route.

"DiNozzo, keep watch until David gets back – then get some rest."

"Yes boss," as he followed Shepard into the bedroom he could 'hear' DiNozzo's smirk and reminded himself to give him a headslap later.

* * *

It was absurd; a couple of hours ago she hadn't been able to stop thinking about him and now he was right in front of her and she didn't have a clue what to say or do. Judging by his stiff posture and the way his eyes travelled the room, looking everywhere but at her, neither did he.

The pain throbbing at her side and a sudden wave of exhaustion was a salient reminder her that she'd been running on adrenaline for a while now. She sat back on the bed, no longer caring about the momentary awkwardness between them.

"You all right?"

"The knife wasn't all that clean, is there any antiseptic in the first aid kit?" Her words seemed to rouse him and he rooted around, finding a packet of antiseptic wipes. She watched him tear them open, her mouth suddenly dry at the sight of his hands - imagining them touching her.

He pushed the sweater up and they both looked at the dried blood and the torn skin. "It needs a Doctor," he said, carefully cleaning the wound and the area surrounding it.

"It'll keep for a day or two." It wouldn't be the first time she'd had to delay medical treatment and she suspected he knew that. And anyway – there wasn't a Doctor to hand.

Besides, it was difficult to think about other things when he was touching her and though the area was probably clean by now she had no intention of stopping him. His fingers skimmed her hip-bone, then dipped into the waist of her jeans and suddenly she was back on the roof top and this time there was no reason not to kiss him.

His fingers faltered, the wipe slipped from his grasp and she didn't even notice a twinge to her stomach as she closed the distance between them, crashing her lips urgently into his. It was better than her imagination and it only needed his faint increase of pressure to have her parting her lips for him; heaviness and heat coiling in her stomach.

She moaned in protest when he broke the kiss, though they were both gasping for breath. But before she could pull him to her his lips had moved to her jaw, travelling along it and then drifting along her throat.

He lifted his lips from the junction of her neck and shoulder and pulled her sweater up and over her head. She flicked open a couple of buttons on his shirt, tracing her nails over his chest and feeling the muscles twitch under her touch. Then he froze. His eyes on the bite mark on her breast, livid against her skin.

"Gravois did that?" His voice was low and dangerous; which shouldn't have turned her on at all – except that it did.

"It's nothing," she told him, pressing a kiss to his lips. But he traced the mark with his finger, his jaw clenched and she imagined him angry at Said and wishing he'd been the one to mark her, all at the same time. His kiss was hungry now and he curved his hand over her breast, squeezing.

He was careful – avoiding her side as he pushed her back onto the bed – but when his mouth was edging closer and closer to the tight bud of her nipple she really couldn't care less about her stomach. She groaned again as the heat of his mouth and the bite of his teeth finally engulfed her.

Her whole body was humming with need and want. She opened her eyes, not even sure when she had closed them and saw the way he was looking at her – desire and passion flickering across features she had once thought of as immobile. She had been wrong about that; it was all about his eyes and she could easily lose herself in them.

"Stop," she said quietly. He obeyed at once, though he looked confused. "I want to," she told him, not sure he'd understand since she wasn't sure she could explain properly. "You have no idea how much I want to. But I can still feel him. I can feel his hands on me, smell his cologne. I don't want what we do to have anything to do with him."

* * *

Another woman might have apologised, said she felt dirty and tarnished. But she wasn't like any other woman he'd ever met and she made no apologies for who she was and what she had needed to do while undercover.

He pulled her towards him, tracing his hands up and down her spine as she rested her head against his chest. He normally wasn't much for cuddling – but this was different; he wanted her to know he understood, without having to find the words.

He felt her relax as he touched her; letting his hands trace random patterns on her back and side, brushing a kiss to her lips, suckling at a spot on her neck that made her groan a little and shift against him. She moved, giving him better access and despite what she'd said he read what her body needed and wondered if she would trust him enough to let him give it to her.

He ran a finger over her stomach, stopping at the button of her jeans and then popping it open. His kiss swallowed her murmur of protest and whatever she might have said next died in a strangled moan as he slipped his hand into the jeans, brushing over her panties.

"Want me to stop?" He moved his fingers and her hips answered for him, arching towards his hand.

"No," her voice was low and breathy and hit him like a kick to the stomach. He nodded once and peeled the jeans off, running his hands over her thighs, tracing the lines where cotton gave way to skin, feeling her heat before he slipped the underwear off her as well.

He propped himself up on an elbow – taking his time; her finger's twisted in the sheets on the bed as his fingers flickered against her. He followed her movements avidly – watching her response, learning what she liked.

When he pulled back, she made a sound at the back of her throat, a little growl that was all impatience and urgency. She was flushed with pleasure, her pale skin already rose hued and as he slipped his fingers into her she moved her hand to his, guiding his touch, showing him what she needed. "God!" He smiled against her shoulder, flicking his tongue out to taste the salt in her skin.

"That a compliment?"

An answer wasn't forthcoming, but he wasn't sure he needed one. He could feel the tension in her, read the way her body was begging for completion as it arched towards him. He kept the rhythm of his hand slow, circling, pressing inside and retreating again – using his thumb, then two of his fingers, watching her come apart for him.

She pulled him to her, kissing him; then breathing harshly, whimpering with need as he pressed deeper until he felt her tighten, then backing off. His own body was clamouring for release now, erection pressing into her hip. But he kept her on the brink, backing off, then building her back up, taking her to the verge of release and then easing back.

She arched towards him, offering her breasts to his mouth; he bent his head, suckling at the exact spot Gravois had marked. "Jenny," he murmured against the soft flesh, before pressing his fingers deep into her at the same time as he bit down.

She cried out as the orgasm crashed over her.

* * *

Her body was humming with pleasure as she came down from the orgasm he'd given her. She turned in his arms and kissed him, letting her hand drift down to his belt. His touch stopped her before she could unbuckle it and she looked up at him in surprise. There was no doubt about how aroused he was; when she curved her hand over him he bit back a curse; his hips moved towards her of their own volition and as she moved her hand his eyes fluttered shut, before he forced them open again.

"I'll take a rain-check," he said, lifting her hand from him and pressing a kiss to her palm. "You should rest."

Actually she was tired – the good kind of tired, the kind of tiredness that came with relaxation and feeling safe. She'd needed the release as much as she'd needed the way that it was offered – without conditions.

"I promise to return the favour," she said – shifting so she could curl up beside him.

"I'll hold you to it." He pulled the comforter up, settling it around her and started to slip from the bed. "Get some rest."

"Where are you going?"

"Shower," he shrugged and sat up, rubbing a hand over his face – then looking down at her he added, "cold shower."

She watched him as he closed the blinds, shutting out the first rays of daylight. Her body clock was going to be confused – but she was exhausted. She was already half asleep as he headed to the bathroom.

"Hell of a time to use my name for the first time," she said softly just before he closed the door. He looked back at her, a smile tugging at his lips.

"I thought that."

* * *

DiNozzo wondered if the boss had any idea just how thin the walls in the apartment were. He'd thought about finding a way to let him know – but figured that would be signing his death warrant.

He was something of an expert when it came to women and he knew that Agent Shepard was hot. It wasn't just that she was beautiful, it was the way she moved and held herself – a woman confident in her body and her sexuality. If anyone had asked him he'd have said that she would be loud – and she had just proved him irrevocably right.

Tony grinned, Gibbs' personal life was a mystery but if the sounds were any indication he had picked up a few tricks in his marriages. He wasn't surprised that he couldn't hear Gibbs – the boss was more the strong, silent type. But there was no doubt what he was doing to take care of her – or how appreciative she was.

One way or another DiNozzo knew he was going to have a lot of fun with this information.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

A/N – thanks for the reviews, just don't kill me!

**Part 10**

Bahrain airport was busy and her training meant that even though she was relatively sure they were not in danger, Ziva David still watched the people streaming around the small group as they stood awkwardly in the departure lounge.

It had been an interesting 24 hours.

Arriving back at the safe-house she found Agent DiNozzo wearing an extremely smug grin, but no sign of Gibbs or Jen. It had taken her about 30 seconds to realise that the two were connected as he happily revealed that their fellow agents were currently ensconced in one of the bedrooms and that he didn't expect them to emerge anytime soon.

His mood was only slightly dampened when Gibbs emerged just as he was speculating on their activities and promptly head-slapped him. But when Gibbs said that Jenny was asleep she'd known at once that DiNozzo wasn't exagerating.

A couple of hours later a call had come in from NCIS ordering them to relocate to the Bahrain field office and she didn't think any of them had been sorry to leave Cairo. There had been no opportunity to talk to Jen privately – although Tony's constant jokes made it impossible for any of them to pretend that nothing had happened.

Ziva found her reaction to Jenny unsettling. She had thought she understood her sexuality and yet the other woman had opened her up to emotions she had always avoided. She feared this new vulnerability and the weakness it could bring, but by the same token she wanted to cling fiercely onto it.

But she only had to see Gibbs and Jen in the same room to understand that whatever affection and friendship Jen felt for her – it was not the same.

She wasn't sure either of them had realised yet that they communicated without speaking, could read each other when everyone else was still struggling to catch up and that when they were in the same room; their eyes followed one another. There was already a fluidness and an intimacy between them that she knew her partnership with Jen had never achieved.

Even DiNozzo saw it, though he pretended not to recognise it and made jokes and thinly veiled allusions to their sexual relationship instead. Ziva was sure that sex was part of it, since the chemistry crackled between them like a live wire, but it wasn't just that.

Knowing what she knew about his past and recognising how emotionally drained Jen was from this mission, she couldn't decide whether she should curse their timing, or be amazed that in a dangerous, complicated world they had found their way to each other despite all the baggage they trailed.

She was veering towards the latter – though it probably didn't help that Gibbs was being recalled to DC while she and Jen were staying in Bahrain to co-ordinate further arrests and seizure of assets. Finishing the job properly was one thing, but she knew Jen; knew that even now Mossad and NCIS were thinking 'what next' for their collaboration.

And Ziva wasn't sure that it was a good idea for Jen to stay on this path. In fact she wasn't even sure it was good for her to stay on this path. Maybe it was time they went their separate ways.

"Officer David," she looked over at Gibbs – amazed that he was offering his hand. "You ever want to do some real investigation – give me a call."

"I will do that," the surge of pride at his words was totally unexpected and she even smiled when DiNozzo waggled his eyes suggestively at her.

"We could work together all the time – long hours on stakeouts, undercover missions." She opened her mouth to respond but Gibbs got there first.

"You trying to persuade her to take me up on the offer DiNozzo – or scare her off?"

"Ziva doesn't scare easily," Jenny weighed in, "and I really have seen her make grown men cry." She turned to her partner and asked, "Did they ever find that guy? The one who made suggestive remarks to you?"

"You know that they did not." She replied, noticing that DiNozzo looked scared and at the same time slightly fascinated, "there was not much of him to find." But he was irrepressible and if she was honest Ziva knew that she would miss him, a little.

As their flight was called he turned to Jenny and said goodbye and before she could respond he added, "I know – working with us has been a real _pleasure_." Making Ziva think that maybe she wouldn't miss him that much afterall.

* * *

Gibbs head-slapped him again; not that he expected it to do any good. The teasing and the references were annoying; but worse was the knowledge that there was no chance that DiNozzo would keep his mouth shut when they returned to DC. He didn't want his private life to be bull-pen gossip – especially since Jen was staying behind.

He'd tried to talk her into leaving – argued that she would be able to co-ordinate just as effectively from DC. But she was determined to stay, claiming that there were things that needed to be finished off here. He wasn't surprised, in her place he knew he would have headed straight back into the field. Anything not to have to think about the layers of skin and identity this mission had stripped away.

They had been too busy to do more than snatch a few moments of privacy and even if he had been a man who talked easily, he wasn't sure what he'd have said to her. He didn't know how she'd managed to get to him, why he'd let himself become involved, even briefly, with a fellow agent. He couldn't even categorise what had happened as a fling. All he knew was that he would do it again in a heartbeat.

David looked surprised as he all but offered her a job. But why wouldn't he want her on his team? She was sharp, with good instincts and she was far too good for the counter-intelligence nonsense she was involved in. He really didn't want to get a second-hand message that she'd been killed in some bungled op some day – not when there was an alternative.

And then there was Jenny.

He grasped her elbow and pulled her to one side, ignoring DiNozzo's grin and focussing instead on the way his pulse increased as she stood close to him. "Sure you won't come back with us? Offer's still open?"

"Rain check?" she said, a smile curving over her lips as she stepped closer still. "The loose ends aren't all professional." Her eyes were warm and full of promise and, despite their audience, he touched her cheek and brushed a gentle kiss to her lips. "Persuasive," she said when they parted, "but I guess you've been told that before."

"You know where to find me when you're done tying up loose ends?"

"I do." He stepped away – feeling a little colder with the distance between them, wondering how he could miss someone he scarcely knew. But things were the way they were.

He summoned DiNozzo with a single look and nodded once to both Jen and Ziva, before striding towards the gate.

"Gibbs!" He turned back at the sound of her voice, his lips twitching in response to her smile, "do me a favour, take care of yourself!"

As the plane taxied along the runway Gibbs glanced out of the window – imagining Jenny already heading back to the field office. Tony sighed, making Gibbs wish the in-flight movie would start soon, so he could have some peace and quiet. But he wasn't going to be that lucky. "Hell of a case boss," well, there was no arguing with that. "Hell of a woman." For once it seemed DiNozzo was entirely serious and that made it two statements in a row he had no reason to argue with.

"That she is DiNozzo, that she is."

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

A/N - thanks for the reviews. This is it folks - the end. Not bad for someone who was planning not to write Jibbs again! Anyway - thanks to Eliie for her thoughts during the writign

**Part 11**

_Four months later_

The heat of Cairo seemed very far away as he trudged home. The air was frigid, the roads already icing up and the weather channels were predicting snow over the weekend.

Not that he had any plans to do anything other than work on the boat and maybe catch up on his sleep. It had been a long, hard month. DiNozzo was his usual trying self; the team had acquired another 'probie' who he was taking great delight in tormenting and Gibbs was heartily glad to see the back of both of them for a couple of days.

As he got out of his car a flicker of movement in the shadows by the front door had him reaching for his weapon. He narrowed his eyes, trying to see through the gloom, wishing that his eyesight was as sharp as it once had been. He was going to feel pretty stupid if he shot a neighbour's cat.

But it wasn't a cat.

"I wonder if you can help me," a familiar voice said, "I'm looking for a place to stay – it needs to have a comfortable bed, good coffee and a charming host. Got any recommendations?"

Jenny Shepard stepped out of the shadows and he tried to ignore the thump of his heart at the sight of her. "Doors open – you could have waited inside."

"I know," at his questioning look she added, "I had to check to make sure I wouldn't be interrupting your weekend." She was on safe ground there; he hadn't exactly been pining, but at the same time he hadn't looked at another woman either. Even when he'd heard from Morrow that the mission had finally been tied up but that she'd taken leave instead of coming back to DC he'd still found it difficult to stop thinking about her.

"Satisfy your curiosity?"

"For the moment – though I don't know how you're going to get that boat out of your basement."

Instead of answering he pushed the front door open and drew her in out of the cold. Only when she pulled a large suitcase in after her did he realise that her request for a bed might have been literal.

"When did you get here?"

"Couple of hours ago – I stopped by the Yard, but Morrow was in MTAC and your team was out. I heard you were wrapping up a case – so I thought I'd come by and wait. Didn't realise how cold it was here." She didn't have a jacket on, so she probably wasn't kidding about being cold. And, looking at her now he could tell that she had been a little uncertain of her welcome. Both of these were things he could do something about.

He pressed her gently back against the wall, rubbing his hands up and down her arms, trying to warm her up – but actually just enjoying the chance to touch her. She didn't push him away, instead her hands fell to his hips and she pulled him closer until his body was resting solidly against hers.

He almost moaned when she licked her lips but instead he tangled his hands in her hair and pulled her head back so he could kiss her. Her lips were cold, but her mouth was warm and everything about kissing her was more intense than he remembered.

"Like the hair," he said when they parted – twisting a strand of copper around his finger and tugging gently.

"Heard you had a thing for red heads," she smiled mischievously up at him. "You going to admit you missed me Gibbs?" It was a little difficult to respond as her hands were busily divesting him of his jacket and then pulling his shirt out of his pants so she could slide her hand over his back.

"You ever going to call me by my actual name?" He said at last, finding a spot on her throat that had elicited moans from her four months ago – and still did. She pulled his mouth back to hers and lifted a leg to his waist, pressing their bodies together in the most intimate of ways.

"I missed you Jethro, " she whispered against his lips – pulling all the syllables of his name out, rolling her tongue around it in a way that was unbearably sexy. "And if you don't take me to bed right now I'll…"

His lips prevented her from finishing what he was sure was a threat and he lifted her so she could wrap her other leg around him. He pushed away from the wall and carried her carefully up the stairs while she entertained herself by biting little kisses to his neck and unfastening his shirt.

He dropped her onto the bed and was on top of her seconds later – kicking off his shoes, yanking her boots off and tossing them to the ground.

"Sure you don't want coffee, or a drink?" He said, wondering if things were moving just a little too fast.

"I told you – comfortable bed, charming host." She slipped the shirt off his shoulders and then sat up and pulled her own top off, while he unclipped her bra. She sighed as she pulled him back to her and he felt his arousal surge forwards as naked skin met naked skin.

When he slid into her she gasped his name and he tightened his grip on her, trying to take his time but knowing from the way she moved with him that long and slow was out of the window this time.

He let her flip them over and felt everything get a lot more urgent as she moved fluidly above him – teasing him to the brink as he'd teased her months ago. She read his mind, bending forward to whisper, "I haven't forgotten that I owe you." He thought briefly about responding, but her breasts were right there, on offer to his mouth and suddenly all he could think about was tasting her.

When the need to finish became overwhelming he flipped them over again and drove into her hard and fast. She dug her nails into his back, keeping pace with him, murmuring his name again just as she came. He didn't stop, thrusting into her tightness, letting himself go until he fell over the edge and she clutched him to her almost as fiercely as he was holding her.

* * *

It would be fair to say that they hadn't strayed far from his bed. An attempt at a shower had become a wet, soapy, heavy petting session that was finished against the sink. A late brunch on Saturday morning had resulted in christening the kitchen table and Jenny had finally returned the 'favour' in the living room as they had attempted to watch a late night movie.

Now it was Sunday and any thoughts about going out had disappeared when it became clear that it was snowing. Not that either of them had been particularly excited at the thought of leaving the warm bed anyway. They were napping a little now, her jet-lag had kicked in and though he wasn't prepared to admit it Gibbs, Jethro, was tired as well.

She'd been worried about his reaction to her reappearance, had half expected him to be seeing someone else – or to be angry that she'd stayed away so long. She hadn't expected explosive sex – though she'd thought about it. He hadn't had to tell her that he was glad she was here, he'd shown her, multiple times.

She was feeling pleasantly lethargic, curled up against his chest, eating a bowl of cereal he'd managed to dig out of the kitchen. They weren't talking much, but his fingers were stroking through her hair, proving that he did indeed love it. "So, it's true what they say about you and red heads," she mused. "Though apparently you also like brunettes."

"Depends on the brunette," she glanced up at him and saw the smug grin. The ego hadn't gone away, but then she liked the arrogant son of a bitch side of him – although it was probably better to keep that to herself.

"Ziva sends her regards," she said after a few minutes of comfortable silence. "I called her from the airport before I left, told her where I was heading."

"You know where she is?"

"Tel Aviv. It's not that she wasn't tempted by your offer you know, but it's complicated for her to leave. Mossad is the family business."

"Hell of a family." She didn't reply, setting aside her bowl and reaching for the cup of coffee he'd brought her. "I heard you'd taken some leave," he said when she'd finished her coffee and returned to her place at his side.

"Got on the first long haul flight I could, I was in Singapore for a while, then Australia."There was a question in his silence, "I told Morrow I was quitting, he gave me some leave so I could think it over."

"You still thinking about it?"

"Maybe," she stretched out a little trying not to remember that just a few days ago she had been sitting on a beach in Sydney – watching families play in the surf, imagining playing with children of her own. "I want a life and I want it to be my life – not one I've taken over for the duration of an operation. It was hard to find myself again, now that I've done it I'm not letting go easily."

"Morrow could find you something else, if you want."

"I know." She'd been planning on telling him that Ziva had shown her his file, that she knew about his marriages and what had happened to his first wife and his daughter. But somehow the words wouldn't come.

She almost wished that she didn't know, but Ziva had wanted her to understand what she was getting herself into. The two months she'd taken to get here had been the time it had taken her to be sure of herself once again. She'd known she couldn't be with him unless she was strong, unless she could hold her own.

But when she'd called her former partner to tell her where she was heading, Ziva's only question had been 'what has taken you so long?' As though she'd known all along that Jen would find her way back.

"There's a spot on my team." She honestly wasn't expecting that and she pushed herself up to look at him, needing to be sure she'd heard what she thought she'd heard.

"You think that's a good idea, under the circumstances?" She gestured between them, her question taking in the messed up sheets and their naked bodies.

"Can't see you being more annoying than DiNozzo." He tugged her towards him and she stretched out on top of him.

"You have any weird rules about not sleeping with agents on your team?" She asked, nuzzling her way to his shoulder.

"Never really been tempted." She looked up at him, her eyes twinkling.

"Well, that can change." And she dropped her head, kissing his chest – feeling the muscles tense as she let her mouth wander over his torso. "You know, we might drive each other crazy." His hands twisted in her hair and she risked one more look at him, "or is that what you're hoping?"

* * *

He wasn't surprised by the summons to Morrow's office – but he grabbed his cup of coffee and slapped the back of DiNozzo's head before taking the stairs two at a time. Morrow looked up as he entered the office after only a cursory knock – but his gaze fell on the woman sitting on the other side of the Director's desk.

Just for a moment he didn't see her as she was now, but as she'd looked a few hours ago – hair tousled, lips swollen. It had not been at all easy to get out of bed and come to work this morning.

"Jethro, you remember Agent Shepard?" He nodded once, "she's expressed an interest in joining your team."

"Getting out of the undercover business?"

"Time for a change." They hadn't talked about it again and though he'd been fairly certain that she wasn't going to quit, he hadn't been sure that Morrow wouldn't make her a better offer.

"I've told her it's your call – I know better than to interfere with your team."

Gibbs looked over at Jen, their eyes locking. He hadn't expected to feel like this, as though he was standing on the brink of something that mattered. But he should have remembered, because she had made him feel like this before.

He knew he needed an equal on his team and in his life, but he didn't know if he was ready for what that would mean. This woman wouldn't easily let him hide, wouldn't accept his excuses and his absences. He hadn't realised until this moment that keeping her close would mean letting her in – though he'd made the offer at least in part because he knew if she quit there would be little to keep her in DC.

"When can you start?" He asked, catching the smile that twitched across Morrow's lips – apparently the Director was not surprised.

"How's right now?"

"Welcome to the team Agent Shepard."

"Thank you, Agent Gibbs." She nodded at the Director and got to her feet, heading for the door. He'd been sure that he'd kept his moment of insight to himself. But, as she passed she shot him a penetrating look and Gibbs realised that he was going to have to get used to having someone around who could read him at least some of the time and who he suspected was going to turn out to be a fast learner. "Shall I go and give DiNozzo the good news?"

"Jethro," he'd turned to follow her, but Morrow called him back. The Director waited until Jen was safely out of earshot before continuing, "I know you know how good she is. Don't screw this up." He wasn't sure if Morrow was talking about the team, or something more – not right then anyway. "And keep it out of the office. Because if that red head decides to cause you pain, I'm not brave enough to get in her way."

She was leaning against the wall outside the Director's office, waiting. "He said we should keep it out of the office," he told her as he reached her, answering the question she'd asked with a rise of her eyebrow.

"And of course you told him that we will?" He didn't answer that – tugging her with him into the elevator and reaching for the stop button as soon as the doors closed.

"This isn't keeping it out of the office," she pointed out as he tugged her towards him.

"Different office, different rules."

She looked around her and he half expected her to point out that they were not in an office. But instead she looped her arms around his neck and said conversationally, "you know, the last time we were in an elevator together I couldn't decide if I wanted to kiss you or kill you."

There was an invitation there if ever he heard one and he accepted it gladly. "You any clearer now?" He asked when they parted.

Her reply was to pull him back to her, "jury's still out," she said against his lips.

The End


End file.
